Story of Tweek
by StarrieEyes
Summary: 'I have a story to tell you, about a boy who's underappreciated, abused, and misused' Short Creek Song fic based off the song 'Story of a Girl' by Nine Doors Down


A/N-I've always loved the song Story of a Girl and I wanted to write something about Tweek being abused so i think it fits. It's short but i kinda like it

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There's one story I have to tell you about; one singular, underappreciated, and unnoticed story, the story of Tweek Tweak.

He's cried so much in his life you could make a river of his tears and drown the whole world in it. He's beautiful, kind, and would never hurt a fly, but people do nothing but take advantage of him. So he'll always look so sad in the photographs, but I fall in love with him over and over again everytime he smiles.

I can't count how many days in a year, he'd wake up with hope but only find tears. I'm so insincere to him, promising him things will get better but what I say never comes to be real.

But he'll always stand there waiting for me. Wearing holes in the soles of those old shoes he'd had forever, because his parents were to neglectful to buy him new ones.

I can't tell you how many days in a year he'd look in the mirror, trying his hardest to look his best for me, when he only had two outfits; both looking the same so everyone thought all his clothes were the same. He always tried to make due with what little he had to look his best, even though he had to wear the same clothes for days in a row.

He'd try to style his unruly hair that his parent's wouldn't cut. He tried so hard to comb it and fix it up, but the rotten bastards wouldn't even buy him a comb. They rarely even gave him shampoo. He always begged me to use my shower so his hair wouldn't be greasy.

He was always so afraid I'd be ashamed of him.

I could never be ashamed of that bright, beautiful, lovable, sweet, kind boy who cared about everyone else more then himself. I could never be ashamed of the boy who could never run out of things to say to cheer me up when no one else could.

How many other lovers would stay, just to put up with this shit day after day? I'm uncaring, stoic, insensitive, and I never tell him anything. How many wouldn't just run away? His parents barely know they have a son, they treat him like shit and neglect him to the point he barely eats. Why didn't he run away from it all?

How did he wind up this way, watching every word he may say? So scared of hurting anyone's feelings; of making anyone feel a fraction of the sadness he felt everyday.

But he'd always stand there waiting for me, wearing the clothes that were old, thin, and worn. The ones he'd worn forever, that let all the cold in, which his parents wouldn't replace.

I want to take him away. Somewhere where he can be happy and smile everyday and never feel sad again. How could we get there today? When now he's working all day just for the price new shoes!

I told him, I wanted to runaway with him. I had money from my grandma, we could go till we stopped and live there, and leave again if we didn't like it. Keep going and going till he could smile all day.

"_Tweek!"_

"_Yes, -nngh- C-Craig?"_

"_I want you to run away with me. I have some money. I want to run away with you and keep running until you smile again. I wanna take you somewhere where we can buy you new clothes and you don't worry about your hair." _

…And that night we did, we took my new truck, our clothes, and the thousand I'd saved over the years. We just ran away, far away, until we reached a whole new town where no one knew us. We found away into the school, both of us got jobs, and a cheap apartment. What I said to Tweek came to be real, I got him new clothes and he never seemed to worry about if I was ashamed of him or if his hair was to messy.

He was Tweek Tweak, a beautiful boy with a pretty face he hid from the world, in shame and fear. He always looked so sad and lonely; but everytime he smiled I loved him even more.

He had looked so sad in photographs, he was neglected, abused, misused, and taken advantage of with all his kindness as he put up with and made due with what the world had given him.

But when we ran away, everytime I saw him, everytime he ate, everytime he dressed, everytime he did his hair, everytime he slipped on his shoes, everytime he woke and fell asleep, everytime we hugged, kissed, or held hands, he smiled.

He smiled.

He smiles and I absolutely love him.


End file.
